Blood Money - 2. The Paladin's Squire

Levelling in the middle of a battle wasn’t exactly a smart idea.
Levelling in a loud pub after celebrating a well earned victory? That was much more Arlo’s style.
The catfolk drained a mug of stout from the Rusty Dragon. Tobyn’s corpse was safe, there hadn’t been any deaths in the guards, and he had a pocket paladin on call. Things were already looking up. Dropping the tankard with a thump, he flipped open his spellbook, quill in hand.
Choosing a new class had been easy. [Spellslinger] had too many downsides. [Arcanist] it was. The only problem was, now he had seven spells he needed to pick from a huge list. Spells that would help a bit more than just sacrificing a spell, hopefully.

Ability Gained: Arcane Reservoir: You have an innate pool of magical energy you can draw upon to fuel spells and arcane exploits. Your current pool value is 0 and will raise to 4 when the next day starts. When casting a spell, you may expend 1 point from your [Arcane Reservoir] to either increase the tier of your spell by 1 or to increase the difficulty of resisting your spell by 1.
Ability Gained: Consume Mana: You may consume mana to refill your [Arcane Reservoir] at a rate of 1 [Arcane Reservoir] point per mana spent. Points gained in excess of your [Arcane Reservoir] cap are lost.
Exploit Gained: Counterspell: By expending 1 point from your [Arcane Reservoir], you may identify a spell currently being cast and attempt to counter the spell by expending mana equivalent to the tier of the spell being countered. Identification requires successful use of the [Spellcraft] skill.

He scanned the blue block at his sternum, swiping idly through dozens of spell names. There was no school restriction this time — he could totally take [Ray of Enfeeblement] if he so desired. And shoot it through his gun; nothing said otherwise.
Arlo did desire.
The catfolk flicked through several other spells. Most of the spells were situational, especially at this low of a level — he only had two caster levels to his name now. But Arlo could now cast nine spells per day, and he was absolutely going to make use of that. If nothing else, that was eighteen minutes of flaming bullets.
More interesting, several skills had levelled up.

Background Skill Improved: Appraise +1
Background Skill Improved: Profession Bookkeeper +1
Skill Improved: Knowledge (Arcane) +1
Skill Improved: Knowledge (History) +1
Skill Improved: Knowledge (Local) +1
Skill Improved: Knowledge (Religion) +1
Skill Improved: Perception +1
Skill Improved: Spellcraft +1

All stuff he’d used, if not exciting increases. If only his alchemy skill had levelled; maybe he could make new types of bullets. Though did he really need to? All Arlo had to do was burn one mana, and suddenly, his gun could shoot fire.
Much more exciting than all of the above, he’d gained nearly three hundred gold, just by selling all the junk that had been on the goblins he and Coradiel had slain. And it left him eager for more. More loot, more gold, more levels.
“Hey.”
Someone dropped into the seat beside him. Belatedly, Arlo realised his quill was hovering over a finished spell name. Blotting the ink dry, the mage closed his book quickly before looking over.
His heart stopped.
Coradiel sat inches from him, a fresh bowl of curry in hand. The half-elf flashed a smile at Arlo — the first the catfolk had seen from him. It lit up the tavern, it warmed Arlo’s soul, it-
“I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” the paladin asked.
His sword was missing, and he was out of battle dress, which apparently meant a citrine necklace and tiny studs in his ears. Long ash brown hair draped back over his shoulders, leaving the faint marks of makeup to brighten his face unhindered.
“N-no,” Arlo said quickly. He dried off his quill, grateful to have an excuse not to stare at this gorgeous stranger who’d fought beside him not hours before. “No, I was… I was just finishing,” he added lamely. “So… you’re… a paladin?”
“Of the Spirit of Abandon, yes,” Coradiel beamed. “One of few; she doesn’t choose many paladins. But someone must guard her flock. I also follow the Songbird and the Auroral Tower in much a similar fashion.”
For the first time, Arlo’s [Skills] failed him. He knew the Songbird was Shelyn, goddess of art and beauty… but….
“I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the Auroral Tower.”
“Not many are,” Coradiel admitted. “He’s the empyreal lord of virginity and rites of passage. It is his followers’ duty to provide for their community in more sensual acts; where the hunter feeds the belly, we feed the spirit. Though, I am Arshea’s chosen. I merely follow Lymnieris because of my Lady’s closeness to him. It is my privilege to help others achieve freedom, liberation, whether literal or figurative.”
Arlo smiled politely, but honestly, he’d lost the thread of conversation already. Coradiel’s voice, smooth as silk, with a rich timbre to it, sank into his ears. The half-elf didn’t need spells to enthral anyone — now that they weren’t in danger, Arlo would happily sit and list-
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah,” he reassured Coradiel quickly, coming back to his senses. “I’m listening. I promise.”
The paladin looked dubious, but before he could call Arlo out on his lie, someone else barged into their party.
“Excuse me!” A nobleman in a blue coat bowed slightly toward Arlo, more a greeting than any sign of respect. “Forgive me, but you left so quickly after rescuing me, I wasn’t able to properly thank you. I am Aldern Foxglove, at your service.”
“Coradiel Arthien,” Coradiel said, dipping his head. “My apologies; I desired to see that vermin run out of Sandpoint before it could cause more harm.”
“Unfortunately, long pleasantries are not appropriate in the middle of a battle,” Arlo pointed out.
“Oh, of course not,” Aldern said quickly. “I understand there were others to rescue, especially for such brave warriors such as yourself.”
He sidled toward Coradiel, who simply took a sip of cider, as though the man wasn’t all but hitting on the half-elf.
“We appreciate your thanks,” Arlo said, clearly leaning into a dismissal.
“Oh, but I haven’t thanked you properly!” Aldern interrupted. “Perhaps with a boar hunt? What better way to celebrate the town’s survival than a feast?”
“I think I saw an episode of Family Guy like this once,” Arlo chuckled nervously.
“What’s an episode?”
“What’s Family Guy?”
The questions caught him off guard — crap, he needed to be more careful with the Earthisms.
“It’s a play broken up into smaller plays,” he explained carefully. “It’s supposed to be a comedy, but sometimes things get… weird.”
Shrugging, Coradiel turned back to Aldern with a smile that could charm the pants off anyone.
“We’d love to go on a hunt, especially if it benefits the town,” he said.
“Leave me out of this-” Arlo breathed, but it was too late. The damage was done.
“Wonderful! I will meet you at the Goblin Squash Stables on the morrow,” Aldern beamed. “Ten bells should give us plenty of time to rest before our journey.”
He left at last. Arlo had to force himself not to sigh.
“Is there a problem?” Coradiel asked, turning back to his cider.
“I don’t like when people fall over themselves for me,” Arlo said quietly. “I never feel like I’ve done enough to deserve their attention, let alone their gratitude.”
“Ten goblins who will no longer plague the town say otherwise,” Coradiel pointed out. “You did save the town. And we saved his life too. That’s pretty gratitude-worthy. And coming from someone who does good deeds for the sake of good deeds, there are people who get highly offended if you do not accept their thanks. It’s better to take their gratitude and turn it to good use. Like hunting a boar for a feast. Sure, it’s in our honour, but it’ll also feed more than just us.”
A strained smile turned Arlo’s lips up.
“Yeah. You’re right. Still feels wrong though.”
Especially since most of the talk he heard around the bar was about how a paladin had fought off twenty goblins single handedly. Arlo felt like an imposter — he’d only hit five of the goblins attacking the town. Coradiel had done far more than he had.
“Well, perhaps it should be in my honour?” Coradiel suggested with a chuckle. “I am rather heroic, after all.”
“And oh so modest,” Arlo snorted. Where the fuck had that come from? “So, what, I’m your sidekick now? Your squire, here to help you fight off goblins?”
“If it makes you feel worthy.”
Actually… it kind of did. Suddenly, Arlo wasn’t responsible for saving a whole town. He didn’t have the pressure to live up to that deed continuously. He hadn’t saved Aldern’s life — he’d only helped save.
“You’re still the one who saved Aldern, though,” Coradiel added with a smile. “You scared the goblins off. I just finished them later.”
“Fuck.”
He was right.

- - -

“Ten tankards of ale on the wall, ten mugs of beer. You take one down…”
Ale sloshed from Arlo’s mug as the catfolk took a massive swig. It washed over his face, leaving froth in his fur. He hiccoughed, and shoved the bottle at a dwarf beside him.
“Pass it around!” The dwarf drank deep before passing it to the next person, who slammed the tankard upside down.
“Nine tankards of ale on the wall!”
“And I think nine is where we’ll leave it.”
Soft, firm hands grabbed Arlo’s shoulders, pulling him from the table before he could reach for the next mug Ameiko was about to deliver.
“But… but we can’t… but the song…!”
He wasn’t that drunk anyway — Arlo could still walk just-
He tripped over a foot. A hand caught him before the catfolk could hit the floor.
“Trust me,” a silky voice murmured in his ear. “You’ve had enough for the night. We need to be up early tomorrow to prepare for the hunt.”
“Hold on. I got… I… there’s a spell for this…”
“No, no casting. Not in this state.”
He was duck-marched toward a flight of stairs. A coin clattered somewhere, before Arlo was forced up the steps, one at a time.
“Come on…” he complained. “Let me drink more. S’not every day you come back from the dead.”
“Not tonight,” the voice denied as they reached the landing. “Second door down. You’ll bunk with me tonight. It’s for your own good.”
They didn’t sound too certain about that. A fact Arlo was quick to pick up on.
“My good or-”
He lurched through an open door. Bile spewed from his maw, just barely missing a pewter bowl on the floor.
“Fuuuuck…” Swiping at his mouth, the catfolk reached for his spellbook. “S’okay… I’m magic… I can… do magic…”
“No.” Suddenly, he was flying through the air, soaring, his head spinning until-
“OOF!”
“I’ll take care of it,” Coradiel said, reaching for a cloth. “Just lay there and get some sleep. I need you awake tomorrow.”
Whimpering, Arlo reached for the angel who knelt on the floor. He needed to run his hands over that perfect back, those washboard abs, that…
“...beautiful cheeks… wanna eat them…”
Eyes blinked. Hard. Before he knew it, Arlo was lost to the world.

- - -

Arlo groaned as darkness turned into… slightly less darkness. His eyes zeroed in on the only light — a strip of predawn peaking between a curtain and the wall.
His head throbbed. His body ached. And something was poking into his back.
For the first time, the amurrun became truly aware of his tail, sandwiched between his butt and a warm wall. It flicked — how did it flick? Why did it flick? He tried to flick it again, with no luck; Arlo had no control over the appendage.
Great. That wasn’t going to bite him in the butt later.
More groans. He pulled himself away from the wall, feeling a heavy blanket fall off him.
Wait… that wasn’t a blanket….
Arlo rolled off the hard straw pallet. He landed with a heavy oof, barely catching himself before he face planted. Stepping gingerly across the room, the catfolk grimaced at the putrid stench coming from a pewter bowl near the bed. He did not want to know what was in there.
But he needed light.
The curtain drew back, shedding light throughout the room. And onto the naked body of a half-elf sleepily rubbing his eyes.
“Is it time to get up already?”
“HOLY FUCK!”
“What?!” Coradiel rolled out of bed, reaching for the longsword leaning against the wall.
“You’re naked! And in my bed! And... and naked!”
Coradiel stared at Arlo. Suddenly, he snorted. Releasing his sword, the paladin shook his head.
“My bed, first of all; I paid for this room. And I always sleep naked. I don’t see why it’s a problem. You seemed to like the idea last night.”
“What? N-no I didn’t!” No, there was no way he would ever want to stare at those succulent cheeks, that sculpted cock- what was he doing?!
Arlo blinked hard.
“I- you have me figured all wrong,” he snapped. “I’m not gay!”
“Gay?” Coradiel’s brow furrowed. “You mean… you don’t like men? Weird… you’ve been staring at me like you want to undress me. And here I am, undressed. And now you want nothing to do with me?”
“Where I’m from, guys don’t just… they… they just don’t…” Arlo growled in frustration. Why was this so hard to get out there? “We don’t fuck other guys,” he said finally. “It’s a sin, it’s unnatural, it’s-”
“It’s my favourite way to worship Arshea,” Coradiel interrupted. “I don’t know what god you worship that would steal away something so pleasurable, but I think you should find a new deity to follow.”
The half-elf stretched, his body nearly shining in the early morning light. He stood up, working through a short series of warm up stretches — almost as if he was trying to grab Arlo’s attention.
“Now, unless you wish to join me for my morning prayers, I suggest you leave,” he added quietly.
Gathering his bag and his book, Arlo scrambled for the door. He took one last look at the paladin — no, he wasn’t longing to feel the man’s flesh on his! — before scurrying out of the bedroom.